Of Smiles and Smirks
by Tarafina
Summary: Ricky Underwood only smiled for two people…


**Title**: Of Smiles and Smirks  
**Category**: Secret Life of the American Teenager  
**Genre**: Family/Romance  
**Ship**: Ricky/Amy, John  
**Rating**: PG  
**Word Count**: 1,541  
**Summary**: Ricky Underwood only smiled for two people…

**_Of Smiles and Smirks  
_**-1/1-

Ricky Underwood only smiled for two people. A smirk he could hand out to anyone; it was almost a permanent fixture on his face. It was his way of showing everybody, whether they wondered or not, that he was tough and he didn't need anybody, not their help or their support or their _love_. His smile negated that. Truth was he _did _need others and their help, their support and most especially their love. But only two; the rest, he was still working on. It took a long while for him to understand just how good he finally had it; to accept that his life turning upside down was actually for the better.

So being a dad as young as he had wasn't exactly the dream of most teenagers and it definitely hadn't been his. But the minute John had been put in his arms, whatever previous dreams he might've had went out the window, and good riddance. John taught him things school never could, that even the most sincere people could never get through his thick skull.

He was not his father.

He would not do what his father had done.

He couldbe better.

He _was _better.

And, most of all, he _deserved _better.

For a long time, he was just trying to prove to himself that he wasn't broken, that he was in control, and when he met Amy she was probably just another one of his many conquests waiting to happen. Except something changed. It wasn't that night when she gave him her virginity, because if he were being honest she was just one of many, but in the time following that, in the situations that progressively took over his life, he was forced into this biggest, _best_, change of his life. In band camp, Amy Juergens was nothing special; she was sweet and innocent and a little geeky and her mouth outran her head most of the time. Later, when he realized their time together had resulted in her becoming pregnant, he wanted to run away, he wanted to kick the universe's ass for doing this to him. Him, always him; nothing _good _ever really came his way. During her pregnancy, she became bitter and angry and she blamed him entirely and he took it, the scathing looks, the hatred; maybe he even thought he deserved it, because he'd never given back anything good, he was useless for all his good looks and charm. Being hated was familiar, it was easy, and it let him believe what he always had; that he was a do-nothing going nowhere.

And then things changed.

Maybe Amy grew up, maybe they both did, and maybe it was because John needed real parents and not a couple of teenagers half-assing it, but along the way the two of them became more than just Amy and Ricky, more than just a couple of kids who had sex at band camp. She became a mother and he a father and together, they became real parents. It wasn't easy, though her family supported them a lot more than he'd ever thought a family could, and not everybody out there thought they were doing the right thing, trying to raise this little boy, but they stuck it through. There were regrets and maybe sometimes he wished he'd never met her and he was sure she wished the same; she'd probably yelled it at him a few times, too. But they were young and sometimes they didn't realize just how lucky they had it, how special and beautiful this little miracle, mistake that it was, could be.

Years later, after high school graduations, college and music academies, struggling and working and supporting both each other and their son, the two kids that grew into parents grew into adults. And what was once a mistake was a blessing in disguise. What was once the worst time of their high school lives became just a memory, something to shake their heads over and lament the overload of hormonal imbalances for.

Sitting in his favorite chair, in his New York apartment, with a view very few could afford, a twenty-nine year old Ricky Underwood could smile. His eyes were closed and his ears were perked as he listened to the beautiful sound of the French horn playing in just the other room; she was practicing again, she had a concert tonight that was going to rock the socks of everybody in the audience. As the thump of drums echoed nearby, mixing in a little behind the beat, followed by the clang of the symbol, he had to chuckle.

"John…" Amy called out. "Did you ask your dad if you could play his drums?"

There was a pause and then, "Yeah…"

"John…" she sighed, knowingly.

He knew his son was rolling his eyes and expected it when he then called out, "Dad?"

"Not while your mom's practicing," Ricky called back, laughter in his voice.

Amy peeked out the door of their bedroom, her eyes narrowed. "This isn't funny… He has no sense of boundaries."

His smile turned into a smirk, the kind that made her eyes roll. "He's _twelve_… Trust me; he behaves _a lot _better than I did then."

She scoffed, moving away from the door to continue playing.

"Hey," he called after her.

"Hey," she repeated back, her head returning to the doorway.

He smiled. "_Since _he's twelve, maybe he doesn't need a babysitter anymore… and _maybe _me and you can go get dinner tonight, just us."

"Yes!" John exclaimed from the other room.

Amy pursed her lips. "I don't know… What if something happens when he's making dinner? Like a fire or—"

"So we order him pizza," Ricky interrupted knowingly.

"Well, what if—"

He interrupted her, "The pizza man is not gonna take him hostage."

Her brows fell heavy over her eyes. "You make me sound _crazy_…"

He blinked back at her. "You kinda are."

"_Ricky!_" she sighed.

"In an attractive way," he added, thinking to smooth things over.

"Oh, well that makes it so much better."

"So are we on or what?"

"Yes, you huge _romantic_," she mocked. "We'll have dinner."

"Good." He leaned back in his chair. "Now quit interrupting, I'm tryin' to listen to some French horn."

She chuckled, a smile tweaking her lips and then moved back to continue playing.

Ricky Underwood's life didn't turn out anything like how he expected. He had a son at seventeen, after a one-night stand with a straitlaced band geek, he got a job, supportive friends, and a family that he was devoted to and who was devoted right back, and eventually, he got a wife. A neurotic, straitlaced, _attractively crazy_ wife that turned his life all kinds of directions until it was finally right side up. He had his pitfalls and his heartbreaks, he fell in love and got his heart stepped on, and it wasn't until Amy was in Julliard and he missed the mother of his son in a way no girlfriend had ever made him feel that he knew it was all just inevitable. Maybe it happened too early and in a way very few would want it, but he got everything he rightly deserved, even when he didn't know it.

Finished with her practicing, Amy left their bedroom and with clothes in hand started toward the bathroom. "I'm having a shower. You should try and make reservations."

"Done," he called out.

She paused, backing up to peer at him wonderingly. "Done how? How'd you know I'd even say yes to John staying home alone?"

He smirked at her. "'Cause I _know _you."

Lips pursed, she eyed him up and down. "Yeah? Then what am I thinking _right now?_"

Hopping up from the chair, he walked toward her, head cocked. "You wanted me to shower with you, Ames, you could'a just said something…"

"Gr-oooooss," John sing-sang from down the hall.

Wrapping his arms around his wife, Ricky rested his chin on her shoulder. "So? Am I right?"

She looked back at him, trying and failing to muffle a smile. "_This _time…"

He laughed, kissing her neck, and then started them moving toward the bathroom, his hands falling to stroke her sides. Long fingers spread across her extended stomach and any smirk fled once more, replaced with a lighthearted, content smile. So he got it wrong; it wasn't two, not anymore. It was three. And in four months, their daughter would join them and complete the family they started so long ago; the family that took awhile to come together just right.

"I hope you didn't make reservations for that Italian restaurant we always go to," she sighed. "I—"

He cut her off with a kiss. He did mention his wife was neurotic, right? But he loved her anyway. Just as much she loved him and all his anti-emotional moods or his I-don't-wanna-talk-about-this-anymore smirks. Every day she helped him remind himself, to prove to himself, that he was all he was meant to be; nothing like his dad, doing nothing his father had. Every day he tried to be better, was better, and knew that he deserved and _got _better. They were unconventional, backwards, but in the end, they still got it right. They got it all.


End file.
